


When the Bough Breaks

by ThirdGenerationRockette



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Miscarriage, Post-Series, but hopeful...I think?, family fic, not entirely happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 21:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13796772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdGenerationRockette/pseuds/ThirdGenerationRockette
Summary: She takes a deep breath and looks down at her hands, noting the slight but definite shake. She's feeling the familiar knot in her stomach, the combination of fear and trepidation, but for the first time it lacks the tiny sliver of excitement that usually comes along with it.





	When the Bough Breaks

Holy. Shit.

That’s all she can think as she sinks slowly down onto the bed, glimpsing her reflection in the mirror, not surprised to see she looks exactly as shocked as she feels. She can hear the sounds of the boys from the living room, their giggles and chatter floating happily down the hallway, interspersed with occasional dashes of Will’s familiar tone; deeper, lower, and as comforting as ever. She takes a deep breath and looks down at her hands, noting the slight but definite shake. She's feeling the familiar knot in her stomach, the combination of fear and trepidation, but for the first time it lacks the tiny sliver of excitement that usually comes along with it. This time there's a heavy sense of dread, of panic, instantly followed by guilt as she tries to tell herself this could be a good thing even though it wasn't in her plans, not in her plans at all…but maybe not everything can be planned for, perhaps sometimes things just... _happen_. Briefly she thinks they need to seriously rethink their birth control methods, because this really shouldn't have happened, and then she almost laughs as she realises it's going to be months before they have to tackle that particular concern.

“Mommy’s getting dressed, Henry, she’ll be right back.” She hears Will’s voice, followed by small but loud footsteps coming down the hall, and Henry appears in the doorway, grinning at her, his blue eyes wide.

“You not dressed, Mommy?” he asks, looking over at where she sits on the bed, still in her pyjamas, as he quite rightly noticed.

“Not quite, baby, no.” She smiles at him as he climbs onto the bed and into her lap, feeling a bit sick at the realisation that he’s not going to be the baby for much longer.

“Sorry, I told him you’d be right out, but you know this one, he needs to see with his own eyes…” Will stops abruptly, walking over to stand in front of her at the end of the bed. "What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, looking up at him and trying to smile but failing dismally.

“Well...you're as white as a sheet and you’re sitting on the bed still in your pyjamas, despite having disappeared fifteen minutes ago to get dressed,” he says, sitting down beside her and taking her hand. “Jesus, your hands are _freezing_.”

“I’m okay, nothing’s wrong, not…” She stops as Henry clambers out of her lap and up the bed, suddenly more interested in the pile of pillows behind him than being in his mother’s lap. “So, you know I’ve been feeling kind of off this last week or so? I thought it might be worth just ruling something out, I mean, I didn’t think for a second it was-“

“Wait, what are you…you’re pregnant, aren’t you?” he asks, his eyes as wide as his youngest son’s were a few minutes ago, but with very different reason.

“How did you…yeah, it looks like I am…” She shrugs and feels him squeeze her hand tighter. “I really thought I’d just take a test to rule it out but I’ve ended up ruling it in, so I took one more just because I couldn't quite believe it, and...wait, how the hell did you know?”

“I didn’t _know_ , I just thought...I don’t know, something about the way you were this week reminded me of…” He stops and smiles, the look in his eyes much less panicked than the one she suspects is in her own. “I don't know. Wow, shit, Mac.”

“Yeah,” she says with a sigh. “Shit. Although…little ears, always listening.”

“Maybe not quite always,” he says, turning to look in the direction of Henry currently throwing himself into the pile of pillows and giggling, barely aware he has company, let alone that he’s missing out on language he probably shouldn’t be hearing.

“Right.” She nods and grabs his hand a little tighter, suddenly filled once again with the reality of the situation they’re in, dread settling heavy on her chest. “We have a two-year-old, a four-year- old, and I’m forty-three in a few months. These aren’t exactly ideal conditions we’re looking at here.”

“Are there ever ideal conditions?” he asks, rubbing his thumb gently across her hand, his smile widening as he watches her.

“No, I don’t suppose there are.” She admits, feeling guilty again about her reticence when she sees how pleased he is, and really hoping it’s just the surprise of it combined with the knowledge that she’s on the down side of forty. She’s well aware of the statistics people like to share on that, and they’re full of nothing but horror. “God, Will, three kids. Three kids under five. At what point did I become my mother?”

“I don’t…actually, I think it’s safest if I don’t answer that.” He leans in and kisses her on the cheek, his lips warm and reassuring and his hand still holding hers. “We’ll be okay. Two, three, what's the difference really?”

“Very little sleep versus no sleep at all, I imagine. I should probably make a doctor’s appointment for this week, if I can, figure out what we’re looking at in terms of dates.” Sliding her hand from his, she stands up and pulls her diary out of her bag, sitting down on the bed and flicking back through the pages as he looks on in silence. “I’m no doctor but I think I’m probably only about four, maybe five weeks, which puts the deed being done somewhere around…Valentine’s Day. A holiday, again. It’s just getting embarrassing now.”

“What can I say? Most husbands buy chocolates and flowers,” he says with a grin. “I like to go that one step further.”

"Yeah, well..." She closes the diary and looks at him, shaking her head as she tries to force herself to feel happy, or just something besides the pervading sense of dismay she feels right now. "Next year chocolates and flowers are fine. Remember that."

*

Almost as soon as Katherine confirms what she thought (around five weeks, putting Valentine’s Day firmly in the frame as the occasion to blame- damn her husband and his irresistible charms), she spends every morning for the next few weeks feeling like death warmed over. The mornings she doesn’t wake up and have to bolt immediately to the bathroom are the mornings she then spends in her bathroom at work, until she finally admits defeat and starts taking her phone in with her so she can at least respond to emails in between bouts of aggressive vomiting. She was never this sick with either Thomas or Henry and even though she knows it’s ridiculous, the thought does cross her mind that maybe this time it’s a little girl, making her presence known strongly in her male dominated household right from the outset.

She focuses harder on work in an effort to quash the thoughts that she can't quite prevent, that three kids are going to be too much, that coming back to work after this one seems ambitious in the extreme, and she wrestles with the internal debate between deciding to stay at home or accepting they'll need to hire a nanny, something she's oddly proud to have managed to avoid so far with the boys. Somewhere in amongst all of this her brain makes plenty of time to feel guilty for not quite embracing this pregnancy like she wishes she could.

At nine weeks (when the baby is the size of a grape, if she remembers rightly), she's surprised to find herself browsing tiny overpriced dresses on various kids’ clothing sites, and she allows herself a moment to picture Will and their daughter, her tiny braids messy from his hair styling efforts before shaking the image from her brain and closing down the web pages. For the first time she feels a hint of anticipation that isn't immediately followed by worry, and she dares to begin thinking they'll be okay, the boys will love a baby sister or brother and she and Will be fine, they'll manage, they always do.

At ten weeks the sickness finally begins to subside but it’s replaced by the soul sucking exhaustion she had managed to forget was part and parcel of the first trimester, and there’s at least one morning where she wishes she hadn’t sworn Will to absolute secrecy so she could just call Millie into her office and tell her she’s taking a nap and she’s not to be disturbed. As it is, they haven’t told anyone, nobody but Katherine knows, and she’s not sure if it’s superstition, fear, or the fact that it's taken so long for her to accept it's actually happening that keeps her from telling even her mother. For now, all she knows as she starts to run a tentative hand over her abdomen each morning is that she needs it to just be hers and Will’s news for a little longer.

On a cold April Friday she wakes at 5.24am with a nagging ache low in her abdomen and a need to pee so desperately she fears she may not make it from the bed to the bathroom, and by the time she does get there she realises she’s bleeding. Not much, but more than the spotting she had with Thomas, more along the lines of the pre-labour bleed with Henry, and cold fear runs through her. She takes a breath and leans back, telling herself not to panic, knowing that this doesn’t necessarily mean anything at all, that it’s not entirely uncommon in early pregnancy, but knowing too that this is baby number three and she’s older now than she was with the boys.

She sits for a few minutes and evens out her breathing before checking again, relieved to see that the bleeding hasn’t quite stopped but it has slowed to barely a trickle, although she’s going to need to ditch her pyjama pants. Standing up she throws the pants into the hamper in the corner of the room and opens the bathroom cabinet, rifling through the various toiletries until she finds the packet of pads she hoped was in there. She creeps back into the bedroom, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dark as she makes her way over to the chest of drawers, hoping desperately not to wake Will. She doesn’t want to worry him, not unless there’s a reason to worry which she _really_ , really hopes there isn’t. Pulling a fresh pair of panties and a pair of what she thinks are either leggings or pyjama pants from the top drawer, she heads back into the bathroom and pulls a pad from the packet, replaces her stained pants and washes her hands before sliding back into bed, tucking herself against Will, craving his solid warmth.

Her relief lasts until around ten thirty when she’s in her office (thankfully) and gripped by a sudden cramp so strong that it steals her breath and forces her to push her chair back from her desk so she can double over, not able to manage anything more than waiting for it to pass. As much as she was able to rationalise this morning’s bleed as something that needn't mean anything, she knows this isn’t normal, and she can’t help feeling something is wrong, really wrong. The pain eventually eases and she breathes a long sigh, scared to move, as if staying completely still will somehow make everything alright, as if simply willing the baby to hang on in there can actually make it happen.

After weeks of ambivalence it seems like a cruel twist that this is happening just as she's starting to smile when she pictures a third little McAvoy, and a week from the first ultrasound, which she knows would have sealed the deal for her. Sliding her chair slowly forward she does a quick Google search, unsure of what she should do, frustrated but not really surprised when she finds so many pages that she doesn’t know where to start. She gets no further than clicking on the first link when another cramp takes hold, this time accompanied by what she can only describe as a gush that she knows means she needs to get to the bathroom now.

Grabbing her phone she somehow manages to stagger from her desk to the bathroom, the almost excruciating pain telling her she should call Katherine now, and probably Will too, and she worries that perhaps she should have told him when she was bleeding this morning instead of assuming it was nothing. Pushing the door shut behind her, she reaches the toilet and it’s the sight of the deep red stain spreading through her underwear and across her skirt that spurs her into action, her trembling fingers finding Katherine’s number and calling, her brain on automatic pilot as she leaves a message with her office asking if they could please have her call back as soon as she’s free. Her hands still shaking, she sends Will a text because she doesn’t think she could talk to him without sending him into a panic, and right now she needs him to be the calm one. He responds to her _‘Hey, if you’re not too busy right now, could you come up? x’_ message almost immediately with _‘Everything okay? x’_ , as she thought he might, and she just can’t answer because she doesn’t know, and she can’t bear to think about the possibility that no, everything is most definitely not okay. So she says nothing, instead standing up on shaky legs, sitting down again almost instantly when she realises not only is she still bleeding but both her underwear and skirt are no longer fit for purpose.

“Mac?” She hears his confusion, no doubt having expected to see her at her desk, only to be greeted with an empty office.

“In here.” She calls out to him, suddenly needing him with her more than she knew she did, her eyes filling with tears as another wave of pain slices through her and she starts to realise what might be happening even as she still hopes desperately that it isn’t.

“Honey?” He appears in the doorway, confused at first, a frown creasing his brow when he sees her, the look of fear in his eyes sending the tears in her own spilling over. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I’m bleeding, Billy,” she says, swiping at her cheeks, furious at herself for being unable to hold it together, to stay calm, for being so devastated over the potential loss of a baby she wasn’t in any way planning, and if she’s honest, wasn’t entirely delighted about until just a few weeks ago when it finally started to feel real. “When it happened this morning it was nowhere near this heavy, and I wasn’t cramping like this, I-“

“It happened this morning? At home?” he asks, crouching down beside her, his eyes widening when he spots her skirt on the floor. “You didn’t tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Please don’t get mad at me.” She wishes now that she had told him this morning, maybe he’d have suggested she call Katherine earlier, maybe it wouldn’t have got to this point. “I know I should have told you, but I didn't want you to worry, I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“No, I’m sorry, I’m not mad, of course not, I’m…” He takes a deep breath and reaches for her hand. “What can I do? What do we need to do?”

“I called Katherine, I left a message for her to call back. I think I need...I think maybe we might need to go and I…I need something to wear.” She points towards her office, wincing as pain rips through her again, worse than anything so far, and she closes her eyes against the sudden light headedness that grabs her.

"Should I call 911?" She hears the panic in his voice and she grips his hand tighter, loosening her hold only when the pain eventually passes, seconds that feel like hours. "Mackenzie?"

"No, it's not...just give me a couple of minutes," she says, the sudden absence of any pain almost as worrying as the agony. “There’s underwear in the gym bag under my desk, and a skirt on the back of the door. Could you grab them? Oh, my handbag, can you bring my handbag in too?”

He runs his thumb over her hand and hurries out of the bathroom and back into her office, leaving her taking a handful of long, steadying breaths. Her phone rings and she looks at the display, a wave of relief washing over her when she sees it's Katherine, and she answers it just as Will walks back in, skirt over one arm, her handbag over the other, and clean underwear in his other hand.

"Hi Katherine," she says, reaching for Will's hand, squeezing his fingers tightly. "Will's here with me, would you mind if I put you on speaker? Great, thanks."

"What can I do for you, Mackenzie? Is everything okay?" Katherine asks, her soft, calm tone the perfect antidote to the panic swirling frantically around her brain.

"I'm not sure...I don't think so, actually." She sighs shakily and reaches for the underwear Will's holding out, sliding them on and pulling a pad out of her handbag, nodding her thanks. "I've been having some bleeding this morning, it wasn't particularly heavy earlier and it stopped pretty quickly, but it started again a little while ago but it's a lot worse, and I'm having some pretty strong cramps, I'm just...I don't know what I should do."

"I'm sure you know it's not uncommon to have a little bleeding during the first trimester," Katherine says, her tone still calm as she goes on. "How have you been feeling until now?"

"Until about a week ago, pretty crappy," she answers, shrugging slightly. "I was sick every day, sometimes for most of the morning, but it seems to have passed now, thank God."

"Right..." Katherine pauses, and her silence is unsettling. "I know you have an ultrasound scheduled for next week but I think it might be a good idea for me to check you over before then, just to make sure everything looks okay. Could you possibly make it in this afternoon?"

"Um, I..." She's thrown because, as ridiculous as she knows it is, a huge part of her hoped Katherine would tell her not to worry, to just rest up over the weekend and everything would be fine.

"We could head over right now, if that works?" Will cuts in and she's grateful because her mind has gone blank, completely wiped clean by sheer panic.

"Head on over, I'll make it work," Katherine says, firmly. "I'll see you soon."

"Here..." He hands her the skirt he brought in and runs his thumb across her cheek. "I'll call for a car and we can head out. It'll be okay."

"You don't know that, you can't possibly know that," she says, instinctively, wishing she could take it right back when she sees the regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just-"

"No, you're right," he says, leaning closer and moving his hand down to squeeze her shoulder. "I don't know that, I'm sorry, I..."

"It's okay, I know it's..." She stops, recognising that he's trying to help and he can't possibly know that something inside her feels different, feels wrong somehow. "Call for the car, I'll be right out."

She pulls the skirt up, combs her fingers through her hair and then makes the mistake of glancing in the mirror. The face looking back at her is one shrouded in worry, her mascara is smudged, there are dark circles under her eyes and she's pale, much paler than usual. She feels another cramp start to take hold, her abdomen tightening as she grips the sink, her knuckles turning white, loosening only when she realises it's passing, that it's not a patch on the earlier ones, and she whispers a _hang in there, little one, please_ as she runs a hand gently over her belly. Picking up her skirt and underwear, the stains filling her with dread all over again, she rolls them up and tosses them into the cupboard under the sink, some tiny part of her brain still switched on enough to know she doesn't want the cleaner to find them tonight.

Somehow she pulls it together long enough to tell Millie something urgent has come up and she's going to be out for at least a couple of hours, and when they're in the car she sends a message to Jim, apologising for having stolen his anchor but promising she'll have him back as soon as possible. For the rest of the ride to Katherine's office, she doesn't look at her phone at all, instead she sits in silence and grips Will's hand like her life depends on it.

They don't have to wait long, they're ushered into the room almost the minute they sit down in the waiting area, and she feels Will's fingers tighten around hers as Katherine greets them. She answers questions about how she's been feeling, about the bleeding this morning, whether it's happened at all before today, if anything else has felt unusual, and when the focus turns to her sickness stopping a week ago she feels a strange unease, a relevance that she doesn't quite understand.

"Mackenzie?" Katherine's voice is kind, and she realises she has no idea what she just said. "What I'm suggesting is that, as you're at eleven weeks now, we do an abdominal ultrasound, and if it doesn't give us anything clear we may have to try looking internally. A little less comfortable, but let's not worry about that unless we need to. Does that sound okay to you?"

"Yes, fine, whatever you think." She nods and unzips her skirt, pulling it down to expose her stomach, a shiver running through her as the cold of the room hits her skin.

She watches as Katherine reaches for the small tube beside the monitor, preparing herself for what she knows is a cold blob of gel about to be smeared across her abdomen, wincing slightly nonetheless. Katherine starts low with the wand, moving slowly across her skin, pausing briefly, her expression giving nothing away, and moving on. It feels like forever before the wand finally stills, her doctor having apparently found the right spot, and she dares to look at the monitor, the experience reminding her of her ultrasounds with the boys, Thomas looking exactly as he should, Henry much bigger than expected. This time it's different, it's silent and she can't see anything on the screen, no fuzzy grey blob, nothing but her own empty womb, and when she sees the look in Katherine's eyes she feels suddenly like she might throw up as she anticipates Katherine's words before they can make it out of her mouth.

"It's not...there's nothing..." She looks at the monitor again, lacking the strength to look at either Katherine or Will, as she tries to accept what she's seeing. "I've lost the baby, haven't I?"

"I'm afraid so, Mackenzie, yes," Katherine answers, her voice quiet, full of sympathy. "I'm so sorry."

"Is it..." She stops, no idea what she was about to ask, filled suddenly with loss, anger, guilt, almost more emotions hitting her at once than she knows how to handle. "Was it something...did I-"

"It's not your fault." Will speaks up, his hand tugging on hers, urging her to look at him, even as she resolutely stares in disbelief at the monitor, blinking and pulling her eyes away only when Katherine leans forward to turn it off. "You did nothing wrong."

"Will's right," Katherine says, her voice gentle, reassuring. "We rarely know what causes miscarriage, unfortunately, but it's most certainly nothing you did."

"When I stopped feeling sick last week, was that because..." Realisation dawns and she feels a sadness flood through her at the thought that while she was rejoicing at her sickness finally passing it was because the tiny life inside her was losing its battle to hang on. "Is that when it...happened?"

"It's hard to say." Katherine shakes her head, looking from her to Will and back again. "But it's possible, yes, that could have been the point when the pregnancy ceased to be viable."

"I'm sorry if this is a stupid question, but what happens now?" she asks, wondering if this is it, sorry you're no longer pregnant, go home, keep your chin up.

"Not a stupid question at all, I realise this isn't what you were hoping for and that it's a lot to take in right now." Katherine's tone is so kind she feels herself on the verge of tears, so she bites her lip to try to regain control as the doctor continues. "I'm going to give you some information for you both to read whenever you feel ready, and what I'd like you to do this weekend is just to rest as much as you can, which I know with two little ones at home is no small challenge. Based on what I've seen on the ultrasound, I'm confident this is a complete miscarriage, which is good news in the sense that it essentially means we don't need to intervene, but there is some chance you may experience a little more bleeding, I'm afraid. It's unlikely to last for more than a few days, a week at most, and it certainly won't be anything like what you experienced earlier today. If you're worried about anything, you know you can call, I'm happy to answer anything I haven't covered."

"Okay." She nods again, wondering at what point this will sink in and she'll start to process that they're no longer having a third baby, a third baby they hadn't planned, that she wasn't prepared for or excited about at all initially, but that she'd started to quietly look forward to.

"The physical healing is the slightly easier thing for me to predict, there are really no hard and fast rules on how long it takes to deal with this emotionally. Everyone deals with loss very differently," Katherine says, and she realises she must have asked aloud what she had thought was only in her head. "There are some really good resources in the leaflets I'm going to give you if you feel you need some support. Both of you."

"Thank you," Will says, squeezing her hand as he nods at Katherine and takes the pile of information she offers them because all she can do is stare at it, all she wants to do is go home, sleep, and wake up feeling like everything is normal again, as unrealistic as she knows that is.

Standing up, she zips her skirt up and tucks her shirt in, sliding her arms into her coat as Will holds it out for her. She feels like she's on automatic pilot, like she's jet lagged, that strange feeling of having been awake too long and no longer feeling like you're present in your own skin while the world goes on around you.

"Oh, and we always advise you don't have sex until you're sure the bleeding has stopped completely," Katherine says, standing up and moving to open the door for them.

"Okay," she says, wondering as she steps into the hallway if she's lost the ability to say anything other than okay, thank you, I'm sorry.

She has no recollection of leaving the building and getting into the car, and nothing registers beyond the warmth of Will's hand in hers until his voice brings her back to where she is, the realisation he's on the phone rather than talking to her taking a few seconds more.

"Jim, I'm going to need you to get cover for the show tonight," he says, squeezing her hand when she turns to him. "Yeah, I know, but something urgent came up and Mac and I need to head home...no, no, the boys are fine. I know, yeah, alright, thanks, you too."

"What are you doing?" she asks, confused but reminded by his conversation that she needs to call Millie and tell her she won't be back in the office today. "We can just have the car take me home first, then drive you back to the office, and then if you can pick the boys up, you can drop them off with me and still make it back in for the four o'clock rundown, and-"

"I'm _not_ going back to work today, Mackenzie." He looks incredulous, as if she's just suggested something completely outrageous. "Jim can find cover, if not Elliot he can pull in-"

"I know he can find cover, and explaining why one of us has gone AWOL is one thing, but both of us disappearing? Everyone's going to think something's wrong and I don't..." She sighs, giving up because she knows she won't win this battle, she doesn't have the energy to try to fight it, and actually, she really doesn't want to be at home alone.

"Do you want me to call Millie?" he asks. "I can tell her you're not feeling well and you're headed home for the rest of the day."

"I'll do it," she says, shaking her head and pulling her phone from her bag, dialling quickly. "Millie, it's Mackenzie. I'm actually going to be out for the rest of the afternoon, would you cancel anything I have in my diary and reschedule for me please? Thank you...oh no, nothing, no, we just...Will and I have something we need to deal with. Of course, thank you, have a good weekend."

*

Walking into the apartment, all she wants is to change, she wants the clothes that will always remind her of today to come off, she needs to be clean, she needs the faint residue of the ultrasound gel off her skin, and more than anything she needs to know that all traces of the bleeding are gone. She pulls her hand from Will's, feeling his reluctance to let go and watching as a cloud of concern crosses his face as he lets her fingers slip from his.

"I need to shower," she says, hanging her coat up and heading straight for the bathroom.

Closing her eyes, she leans against the wall and lets the hot spray wash over her face, through her hair and down her back, turning the temperature up as high as she can stand it, hoping it will break through the numbness she feels from head to toe that won't seem to crack. She doesn't know how long she's been standing still, her eyes tightly shut, when the door opens and Will steps in behind her.

"Jesus, Mac, this water is fucking scorching." He reaches around her and turns the temperature down.

"What time is it?" she asks, hit with a sudden fear that they've missed pick up and the boys will be sitting waiting, wondering why nobody came for them.

"It's fine, honey. I need to leave in a half hour, we're good until then," he says, rubbing a blob of shampoo between his palms and sliding his hands into her hair, his fingers a tender balm to the thoughts churning violently around her brain. "This okay?"

"Mmm-hmm, it feels nice," she says, sighing, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions so strong she wants to bang her head against the wall in an attempt to dislodge them and send them swirling down the drain.

She lets him finish, savouring his touch as she always does, never more thankful than she is now for the way his hands never fail to soothe her. Turning to him, she presses herself against his chest and feels his arms move around her as they both stand in silence. She takes a deep breath and looks up at him, pushing him back slightly so they're no longer directly under the spray.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel," she says, biting her lip, not really sure what she's about to say but knowing she needs to talk to him, wants to talk to him. She's the one dealing with this physically and emotionally, it's her body that feels a loss, but he's hurting too, she can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

"You're supposed to feel...whatever you need to feel, I think." He runs his hands slowly up and down her back, his gaze fixed firmly on her, a frown creeping into place. "Are you feeling...are you in pain?"

"No, I'm okay, I just feel...strange, I guess, like I should be feeling one particular thing, but I'm not, I feel..." She sighs and curls her fingers against his chest, blinking as a drop of water rolls down from her forehead and catches on her eyelashes before it moves on. "My head is spinning, I can't think straight. I feel sad and angry and... _guilty_ because somewhere inside I feel relieved, I feel a tiny bit relieved and that makes me me feel like the shittiest person in the world. I feel so fucking guilty and I know you're going to say that's stupid, but-"

"I'm not going to tell you anything you're feeling right now is stupid, and I don't think you should feel guilty about anything either. I don't know what I can do, to help, I mean, but I am going to tell you again this wasn't your fault." He stops and leans down, kissing her forehead and softly squeezing her shoulder. "You heard what Katherine said, most times they don't know why this happens...I'm just so sorry it happened to you-"

"To _us_. It happened to us." she says, annoyed with her brain for daring to even plant the seed just a little when she knows he's right, of course she does. "You know what I did a couple of weeks ago?"

"What?" He watches as she tucks the towel around herself and waits for her to go on.

"It's stupid, it was way too early to even be thinking about it, and I wasn't going to buy anything yet, obviously, but I was eating lunch at my desk and I was online and I just..." She blinks away another bout of unexpected tears as she looks up at him. "Baby clothes for girls, I just couldn't help looking...we've only ever had to buy boys' clothes and...well, it was really the first time I'd thought about it and had felt something _good_ , I guess. It's ridiculous, I know."

"Can we agree on something? For a little while, at least?" His voice is gentle and she finds herself nodding in agreement without a clue of what he's about to suggest. "That none of what we're feeling is ridiculous or stupid or anything other than us just trying to figure out how to deal with all of this. I'm not going to think that about anything you tell me, I promise, because, fuck, this is not a situation we ever expected we'd be in and now that we are it's clear there's no rule book, and I just want...I don't want you to feel you can't tell me how you're feeling or what you're thinking, okay?"

"Okay," she says, nodding, reminded once again of just what a good guy he is, and how thankful she is every damn day.

"And if you don't want to talk, that's okay too, I don't want you to feel like I'm pushing you, I'm just going to be here, like always," he says, a shadow of sadness crossing his face as he sighs softly. "You know, this is shit, honey, it's just...shit."

"You're right, it _is_ shit." For some reason his simple assessment amuses her and she lets out a small, unexpected huff of laughter, moving a hand to pat his still damp chest. "You should get moving, right?"

"Yeah." He removes the towel from around his waist and runs it quickly over his chest and down his legs. "You'll be alright while I'm gone?"

"You'll be forty five minutes at most, I'll be fine." She watches him as he runs a comb quickly through his wet hair. "I'll get dressed and maybe lie down for a little while."

"I could take them for cookies or to the park before we head back?" He offers, leaning forward and gently squeezing her shoulder. "If you want to get some rest."  
"No, don't. Come right home," she says without hesitation. "Right now I want nothing more than to just hug my boys."

*

For a few seconds when she wakes up she genuinely has no clue what time it is, no idea if she's been sleeping for a couple of hours, or if she's waking up to Saturday morning. All she really knows is that she's so thirsty she wouldn't be entirely surprised to find out she'd been sleeping for months. The empty side of the bed beside her suggests it's not the middle of the night, and as she rolls over and sits slowly up, taking a deep breath when a wave of unexpected dizziness hits her, the definite sounds of non-sleeping children drifting down the hall confirm it for her. She reaches for a sweatshirt she spots folded up at the end of the bed, pulling it over her head. It's Will's but she doesn't care, it's warm and soft and it smells like him, instant comfort in one easy move.

In the dining room the boys are at the table, with what seem to be small mountains of pasta on the plates in front of them, Henry's face a study in pure concentration as he digs in, Thomas eating more slowly but with equal enthusiasm. She stands in the doorway, taking the opportunity to watch them before they, or possibly Will, notice she's there. The kitchen looks like a bomb site but still, she's grateful she has a husband who doesn't believe he's incapable of making dinner for his own children, and that their boys are usually happy with whatever is put in front of them. Henry pauses to reach for the juice in front of him and as he glances up he catches her eye and grins.

"Mommy's awake!" He yells, pointing his fork in her direction, his grin widening even further.

"Daddy made pasta," Thomas says, his bright smile matching his brother's. "You want pasta, Mommy?"

"Thank you, sweetpea, but I'm not really hungry." Her answer is automatic but she stops herself, feeling suddenly more hungry than she thought she was, or expected she would be, and knowing it'll make Will feel better if she eats at least a little something. "Actually, maybe I'll eat a little, if there's enough."

"There's enough for about nine people," Will says, shrugging sheepishly and reaching for a bowl, smiling as she strokes a hand down his arm before filling a large glass with water and heading to the table.

Leaning down she kisses the tops of both boys' heads, breathing in their scents as her fingers move to ruffle their hair, stopping only when Henry wrinkles his nose and turns his attention back to his dinner. She slides into the seat opposite and smiles at Will as he puts a bowl of pasta in front of her and sits down.

"How are you feeling?" His voice is so soft, so tender that she feels the burning threat of tears once again as she looks up at him.

"I'm...okay, I slept more than I expected to, I just thought I'd lie down for a while, but I guess I must have needed the rest," she says, reaching for her fork but pausing before she starts to eat. "How are you doing?"

"Me?" He looks confused and she wonders if he's even dared to allow himself a single second to consider his own feelings. "Apart from being completely unable to cook enough pasta for four people instead of forty?"

"I'm serious, Billy." She sighs and picks up her glass, taking a gulp and waiting for him to answer. "I know," he says quietly, covering her hand with his and squeezing gently. "I'm okay too."

"Are you lying to me right now?" She frowns but as he looks right at her and shakes his head she knows he's being honest and she figures if okay is the best they can manage for now then she'll take it.

She surprises herself by eating more than the few bites she was aiming for, almost instantly feeling ready to sleep some more, and she wonders if the tiredness is physical, mental, or if as long as her body is telling her to rest she should stop questioning it and just pay attention. Will gives the boys a bath while she sits on the toilet and watches as they insist on taking so many toy boats into the tub that there's barely room for the two of them, as Henry initially resists having his hair washed (as he usually does), and Thomas ponders which bedtime story he wants her to read tonight. For a moment she pictures a third child fighting for attention, another voice to add to the already substantial noise, and there's something in her gut that craves it, an urge that feels beyond her control, a yearning that she knows is purely biological and that passes so quickly she wonders if she completely imagined it.

Will notices when she drifts off, she knows he does, she can tell by the tone of his voice when he says her name, by the narrowing of his eyes, the worried creases across his forehead, but he says nothing, he simply leans across and squeezes her knee before telling the boys they have two more minutes and then bath time is done.

She hears him cleaning up the mess as she curls up on Thomas's bed, her boys snuggled against her, Henry starting to doze before she finishes reading, Thomas focusing right to the end. They smell of bubble bath and shampoo, they feel warm against her, and even though story time is always her favourite time of day, tonight she holds them a little bit closer, giving silent thanks for her two happy, healthy babies.

*

"I'm too comfy to move." She sighs as he flicks the TV off, forcing her eyes open and turning to him. "How about you get up and brush my teeth for me?"

"You know I would," he says, pushing her hair out of her face.

"I do know that." She sighs again and sits up, knowing that if she doesn't brush her teeth she'll feel disgusting in the morning and God knows she doesn't need to feel any worse. "Alright, don't fall asleep, I'll be two minutes."

She brushes her teeth, moisturises and then takes a deep breath, needing to pee but dreading being faced with more bleeding to remind her all over again of how surreal and frankly fucking awful this day has been. Pulling a fresh pad from the packet she sits and looks down, letting out a long breath at the sight of nothing more than what seems to have been faint spotting. Even though Katherine was clear that there was little more left for her body to do, she still harboured a fear that maybe she was wrong and a repeat of this morning was imminent, something she really didn't know how she would cope with again.

Will moves over slightly to let her slide under the covers beside him, and she senses he's waiting for her to let him know what she wants, his hand hovering in mid-air until she grabs it and tangles her fingers in his, a soft sigh escaping his lips. For a few seconds they lie in silence, her hand clasping his and their breathing in perfect sync, and just as she wonders if he's fallen asleep before her, he shifts slightly so he can look at her.

"I read some of the information Katherine gave us," he says quietly, blinking at her in the lamplight. "It was...it might be helpful. You know, if there's stuff we're not sure about."

"I need to ask you something." She pauses, biting her lip as she looks at him and he nods at her to go on. "Are you angry with me because I wasn't happy at first?"

"No." His answer is instant and she knows he means it so she doesn't know why she can't stop there. "Honey, I'm not-"

"I'm pretty sure one of those leaflets will say it's important to talk and to be honest," she says, feeling his hand squeezing hers as she talks. "Are you not even a little bit mad at me? I'm not asking if you think it's my fault, I know you don't think that, and you know I had started to look forward to it, but I just can't help wondering if you're...you were excited right away, but it took me a while and I just...do you know what the first thing I felt when the test was positive?"

"What?" He runs his thumb gently, soothingly across her knuckles, encouraging her to carry on.

"Dread." She feels guilty admitting it aloud but she knows too that she needs to be honest with him. "Just...complete dread. All I could think was that we have two kids who finally let us have a full night's sleep, most of the time, anyway, and we have a really good routine that runs like clockwork more often than not. We somehow manage to get to work, juggle picking the boys up, and still spend plenty of time with them, and suddenly we were looking at sleepless nights all over again and me needing time off work, and a baby wanting to be fed every couple of hours, and I just...God, do you hate me for even thinking like that?"

"First off, I could never hate you, not for a single second," he says, shaking his head. "It wasn't planned, I knew it was a shock, and of course it's going to be easier for me to be happy right away-"

"Why?" She frowns, watching as he seems to be thinking about his response.

"Because I get all the fun parts, and for me, for the guy, nothing changes right away, not really. It's more of a vague thing that's going to happen in a few months, but for you it's different, right from the start it's more than just an idea, it's..." He pauses and she waits for him to continue. "What I mean is you're the one who hits the ground running from the minute the test is positive, you're the one who has to go through the pregnancy, who has to deal with the sickness, and then when the baby's born you're constantly feeding and as much as I want to, I can't help with that, not at first, and then somehow, because you're my fucking hero, you manage to go back to work too. So no, I don't blame you for a second for how you felt when we first found out. We'd never considered a third, not seriously, and it sure as hell wasn't what we planned for, or what we thought was going to happen, and-"

"And it's not, it's _not_ going to happen." She's firm, she suddenly needs him to know that there isn't going to be a third child, not ever. "I won't take the risk that this could happen again, I can't. We need to...make a choice that's more reliable, something that means the chance of this happening again is as close to zero as it can be. I _can't_ go through this again, I just-"

"Hey." He stops her, perhaps sensing the increasing panic in her voice. "It's okay, it's okay."

"Sorry," she says, letting out a long sigh. "You know I would have loved this child with everything I have, just like I love the boys, but it doesn't mean...just because it happened, because I got pregnant, it doesn't mean I want another baby. Am I making any sense?"

"As much sense as you ever do," he says, and she appreciates his attempt to lighten the mood. "Seriously though, I get it, and I agree, we're totally fine as we are, the four of us, right?"

"Yeah, definitely." She feels a sense of relief, even though she hadn't thought for a second that he was about to insist this had changed things and that a third child was something they should think seriously about. "I love you."

*

He's still sleeping and she's not sure how long she lies there, focusing on his steady, rhythmic breathing, hoping it might lull her back to sleep, before she eventually accepts it's not going to happen. She leans over and softly kisses the side of his neck, smiling when he doesn't stir at all. It's early, horribly early for a Saturday, and as she climbs out of bed and wraps a robe around her, shivering slightly in the early morning chill, the irony of being unable to sleep on the one weekend she's expressly been told to rest isn't lost on her. She intends to head to the kitchen and make tea, but as she passes the boys' room something pulls her in, the silence, maybe, the unique calm she always gets from watching them sleep. Sliding quietly into the room, she sits down on the floor and looks over at the two of them, both sleeping, breathing softly, peacefully, and she feels herself relax.

Henry is curled up under his bedding as usual, only his shock of messy blonde hair peeking out, and Thomas is on his back, his arms above his head and a faint smile on his lips. When they moved Henry into his own bed a few months ago, putting him in with Thomas was meant to be temporary, just until he got used to it, but then the boys seemed to like being in a room together so they left him, figuring they'd reassess at some point. The prospect of needing their extra bedroom for the new baby put everything on hold, but now that's not something she needs to think about, she wonders again as she watches them sleeping if it may be time for Henry to move before he gets so used to sharing that moving him is going to be difficult. Sighing, she decides she can't think about it right now, and she decides instead to go back to bed, figuring that even if she doesn't sleep it'll be warm, more comfortable than sitting on the floor, and she'll have Will to snuggle with.

When she wakes up it's light and she blinks to clear the sleep from her eyes, noticing Thomas lingering in the doorway, silently watching her.

"Daddy said I can't go in if you're still sleeping," he whispers, frowning slightly and looking just like Will.

"I'm awake, sweetie, you can come in." She sits up and smiles at him, waiting for him to come closer, reaching for him and kissing the tip of his nose as he stands beside the bed. "Is that syrup I see on your cheek?"

"We had pancakes." He nods, climbing onto the bed and sitting next to her, his hand on her shoulder. "Daddy said be quiet because Mommy's not feeling good. Are you still sick, Mommy?"

"A little, Tom Tom," she says with a nod. "I'm okay though."

"You should eat pancakes too, maybe you'll feel better," he says, giving her a sweet smile, looking proud of himself for his suggestion. "Daddy made lots of pancakes, a real big pile, and syrup, and me and Henry had blueberries too."

"Wow, it sounds like Daddy made you a good breakfast." She returns his smile and sits up, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him to her and kissing the top of his head.

"Yep!" He wriggles out of her hold and she sighs, remembering when he was much smaller and there was no protest at being cuddled for hours. "I'll tell Daddy you're awake and maybe only a little bit sick now, okay?"

He doesn't wait for a response before he climbs down off the bed and disappears from the room, and she rests her head back on the pillow, trying to decide if she's hungry for breakfast, or coffee at least, now it's back on the menu for her. That realisation brings everything back into focus, how only twenty four hours ago she was a caffeine free zone and months away from a relaxing glass of wine, only for everything to change so quickly, so dramatically. She decides she doesn't want to eat, not right now, but what she wants, what she needs, is some air. Five minutes, maybe ten, a quick walk around the block, just enough to clear her head, to give her back the perspective she feels is just out of her grasp this morning. She brushes her teeth, pulls her hair into a ponytail and throws on jeans, a sweater, and boots, not really giving much thought to the temperature outside, certain she'll neither boil nor freeze in the short time she intends to be gone.

“I’m just going out for a little while.” She walks into the kitchen and up behind Will, to where he’s pouring juice into a cup for one of the boys, and rests her hand on his back. “I won’t be very long.”

“Out?” He turns to her, a worried look on his face. “You know Katherine said you should rest up- “

“You can stop worrying right now, I’m not on my way out to run a marathon,” she says, stopping him, aware that he’s concerned and knowing he will be no matter what she says. “I just...I need some air, I need to clear my head.”

“I could get the boys dressed and we could come with you,” he says, keeping his voice light even as the worry doesn’t lift from his face.

“Just keep them entertained for a while, and don't throw those pancakes away, I'll eat when I get back.” She leans up and kisses him, smiling at him as she pulls back. “I’ll be back soon, I promise."

She's mindful of Will's words, and she knows he's right about Katherine telling her to rest, so she determines to take nothing more than a short, slow stroll, and to head back if she feels even the slightest twinge of pain or discomfort. Staying on Riverside Drive at first, she passes the Saturday morning joggers, dog walkers, and kids on bikes heading into the park, before crossing over, glancing into the window of Barnes and Noble, carrying on, her feet seemingly having a plan she's not aware of. She didn't plan to end up at church, or certainly not consciously, yet here she is, standing at the bottom of the steps, something about the open doors offering a comfort she didn't quite know she was looking for. Walking inside, she slides into a pew near the front and drinks in the quiet, the complete peace that seems to instantly silence the deafening noise in her head.

"Hello, Mackenzie." A familiar voice, quiet and soft, appears beside her, and she turns to see the priest smiling gently at her. "It's not often we see you here without your little brood in tow."

"It's not often I make it out the door without them in tow," she says, giving a half smile in return. "Was it the silence that gave it away?"

"Perhaps," Father Michael says, nodding. "Although I don't mean that in a bad way. In my eyes, there's no lovelier sound than happy youngsters."

"Well, right now they're home with Will, and very happy with the pile of pancakes he made for them." She thinks of the boys, and Will, and sighs, almost involuntarily.

"Are they all well?" He frowns, his tone concerned. "Will too?"

"Oh, they're fine, they're really well, thank you," she says, wondering again why her brain decided to lead her here this morning. "I'm not sure why I'm here, really, I just...I needed somewhere quiet, somewhere to try and make sense of some things."

"It's a good place for that, I always find," he says, pausing briefly before he continues. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"No, I don't...maybe, I don't know." She shakes her head, rolling her eyes slightly at her own indecision. "Sorry."

"Take your time." His voice is kind and in that moment she feels like he might have the key to everything, as crazy as she knows that is.

"I'm really good at dealing with things that can be explained, you know? At work I can deal with something going wrong by figuring out _how_ it went wrong, how to fix it, and how to make sure it doesn't happen again," she says, looking away from him to the front of the church, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "When something happens that you can't find a reason for, something without anything logical to explain it away, how do you deal with that?"

"I think first by accepting that not everything _can_ be explained," he says quietly, gently. "At the risk of sounding terribly hokey, God works in mysterious ways, Mackenzie, and sometimes things happen that we can only trust were in His plan all along, for reasons beyond us. We are mere humans and, while it's hard to understand why at times, there are some things entirely outside of our control."

"I just feel...I don't know how to deal with something that I'll never understand, and I'm worried I can't move past something that I simply can't rationalise." She shrugs, turning back to him, looking to him for some kind of magic fix, which she knows he doesn't have.

"Whatever one is dealing with something difficult, the most important thing is having all the right tools to work through it, which I believe you do, Mackenzie." He sounds certain, and his confidence in her is clear. "You have an incredibly strong family, a supportive husband, bright and happy children. And you have your faith, which you shouldn't underestimate in difficult times, even if it's as simple as you finding yourself here this morning, seeking the quiet, the space to think. Hold on to all of those things and even if it takes days, weeks, or months the clouds will lift, I'm quite certain of that."

"Are you about to hurl the old 'God never sends us more than we can handle' trope at me?" She smiles, letting him know she's not entirely serious.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he says, smiling back at her. "My book of clichés is far more impressive than that."

"I'm glad to hear it," she says, pulling her coat tighter around her as she stands up, chilly suddenly. "I should go, I told Will I was just going out for a few minutes to get some air, he'll be thinking I've abandoned him with the kids for good."

"Do tell him I said hello." He stands up too and steps aside to let her out. "The doors here are always open, Mackenzie, as I'm sure you know."

"I do." She nods, feeling lighter, unburdened, even though she has no more answers than she did before she walked in. "Thank you, Father."

Her head feels much clearer as she walks home, and she thinks about Father Michael's words, his simple clarity, his kind tone. Perhaps not everything can be explained, perhaps it doesn't need to be, and maybe there are plenty of things that happen with no reason that just have to be accepted and moved on from regardless. She still feels strangely empty, she still feels a loss, but she accepts now that this wasn't her fault, it wasn't anyone's fault, and she just needs to work on the guilt she still feels bubbling under her skin.

She makes it back home and lets herself in, feeling hungry suddenly and craving coffee, a huge mug of strong coffee. Will turns and smiles at her as she walks into the kitchen and, almost as if he sensed her need, she smells fresh coffee combined with something else, the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate.

"You made fresh coffee," she says, walking over to Will and pressing herself tightly against him, her arms sliding around his waist as she closes her eyes and feels his hands on her back.

"You okay?" He sounds curious rather than worried and he smiles at her when she pulls back, looks up at him and nods.

"I went to church." She watches as his eyebrows raise, clearly not expecting to hear that. "I had an epiphany."

"Really?" he asks, running his hands slowly, softly down her back.

"No, not quite, but I feel..." She pauses, thinking about her conversation in the church, the clarity that followed. "Things feel less...I don't know, it feels like something shifted, just a little. Perspective, it gave me back some perspective."

"I'm glad," he says, smiling at her, his eyes fixed firmly on hers. "I'm glad it helped."

"Mommy, we made cookies with Daddy!" Thomas comes running in, closely followed by an equally excited Henry. "Chocolate!"

"You did?" She turns and smiles, noticing they're both still in their pyjamas. "You and Daddy were busy this morning."

"Daddy said we can eat one but then we have to wait for you to come home." Thomas grins up at her. "So now you're home we can eat more, right?"

"I have an idea," she says, watching as both boys move closer, looking up at her expectantly. "How about you two, and Daddy and I, take the cookies, and some milk, and we all go and watch TV in bed? Does that sound fun?"

"In Tom Tom's bed?" Henry tilts his head, clearly baffled by the idea of all four of them somehow squeezing into his brother's bed.

"No, in Mommy and Daddy's bed." She smiles at them and looks up at Will. "Crumbs in the bed incoming. Sorry, honey."

"I'll cope," he says, reaching for her hand. "I should point out you're the only one not in your PJs."

"That's easily rectified," she says, shrugging and looking forward to a morning, maybe a whole day, in her pyjamas, nothing more to do than eat cookies and watch TV.

She changes and when she comes out of the bathroom she finds all three of them lying on the bed, coffee for her and milk for the boys on the nightstand, and a huge plate of cookies in the middle of the bed. Reaching for a cookie, she takes a bite and moves up the bed, settling herself against Will, smiling as his arm goes around her and pulls her even closer. Henry takes a cookie and climbs in between Will's legs, grinning up at them before turning his attention to the TV. She finishes the cookie and reaches for a second, suddenly so hungry she fears she could finish off the entire plate if the boys weren't here to offer up some stiff competition.

They lie in relaxed silence for a while, the TV and the crunch of the cookies offering the only sounds in the room. Will passes the mug of coffee to her and she takes a sip, her first in weeks, and it's every bit as good as she hoped it would be.

Thomas starts to quietly count aloud, and she realises he's counting the stripes on the blanket draped over the bed, his finger moving over the fabric, his forehead creased in concentration.

"Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten..." He pauses and she thinks he's lost interest, but then he continues. "Eleven, seventeen, twenty two, fifteen!"

He stops and joins Henry in turning his attention right back to the TV, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder in a companionable silence that fills her with warmth.

"He's got a little way to go there," Will says smiling as he pulls her closer to him. "One through eleven is sounding pretty good though."

"It's enough for now," she says, snuggling closer into him.

"It is, you're right." He agrees, the pride in his voice clear. "He'll get there."

She looks at the boys, she feels Will's arm around her shoulder, and she realises the biggest and best thing in her world is right here in this bed; her family. Whether she feels sad and guilty for a week, a month, a year, or even if it never really goes away completely, she knows how lucky she is, and she knows without a doubt that they'll be okay.

"Yeah." She turns in his arms and leans up to kiss him, stroking her fingers down his face and giving him a hopeful smile as she pulls back. "We all will."


End file.
